


you've got a glow

by faaulkner



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: #BottomHanniBonanza, Bottom Hannibal Lecter, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Top Will Graham, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:08:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26475442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faaulkner/pseuds/faaulkner
Summary: Will needs Hannibal to ask himjust right.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 187
Collections: Bottom Hanni  Bonanza





	you've got a glow

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been bouncing uselessly around my head like a DVD player screensaver for GOD knows how long, so why not finally write it for FannibalFest's BottomHanniBonanza? 
> 
> Title courtesy of A Glow by Okkervil River.

"Will."

Just like all the times before, it isn't good enough, and the quiet sigh somewhere above him is proof alone of that.

"Come on, sweetheart." Will's voice is thick and warm, a jar of honey left to catch the afternoon sun on the kitchen table. "We both know you can do better than that.

Hannibal is lying before him, prone and bare and vulnerable. His hips ache with how long his legs have been spread like this. His hair is disheveled, his skin sheened with sweat. It’s a state he’d loathe to be in at any given time, and yet he can’t imagine any other place he’d rather be right now. He is as close to perfect as can be, save for one detail.

He should have known things would lead to this, what with the way Will had eyed him over his glass of wine, sizing him up like he was a prized animal soon to be purchased. He'd come to Hannibal not long afterwards, offering him a sweetness in his kisses and touches that only turned chiding the moment they'd reached the bedroom. Only then had his true colors shown, in the way he'd rolled up his sleeves under Hannibal’s rapt gaze, and then demanded Hannibal strip. Only then had he retrieved a long, slender box, kept hidden from Hannibal for God knows how long, and pulled out the item within.

The item within that is now buzzing away insistently inside of Hannibal, so deep he thinks he can feel it in his teeth.

Will thrusts the toy even deeper, not slow enough to be teasing with it but certainly in no hurry, either. The setting he has it on is strong, the vibrations running harsh along Hannibal’s tender insides with every pass. The girth itself just thick enough that he’s slowly traversing from feeling pleasantly stretched to just _stretched_. Hannibal can’t help but fuck himself even further onto it just to feel, pleasing himself just as much as he is torturing himself with it.

Will doesn’t miss the movement, observant as he is, and the smile that curls his mouth could be cruel if it wasn't so beautiful on him .

"Feels, good, huh?" he teases. "I would hope it does, we've been at this for a while now, haven't we?" A pause, as he adjusts his grip. “It could feel even better, but you know what I want to hear."

Hannibal can't fight the dangerous growl that rips from his throat. But he does not give in, does not offer the signal that he wants to stop. His hand on his own cock speeds up despite himself, because Will had said, he could stroke himself as quickly or as slowly as he desired, but hejust could not _stop_ , and he certainly couldn’t come, not until…

"Will, please," he croaks. It feels as if his vocabulary has been reduced to variations of those two words only.

Will merely shakes his head in something like mock disappointment. His thrusts slow for a moment, as he fiddles with something the toy, and then the vibrations grow _stronger_.

Hannibal gasps, the gutted sound playing accompaniment to the loud, loud buzzing between them. If he didn't know any better, he'd think Will had intentionally gotten a toy that _didn’t_ brag of being whisper-silent, if only to torment him further with the sound of his own undoing. His hips have begun to judder, purely unconscious, no longer sure whether they want to embrace or escape the sensations boiling hot in his belly. Will takes full advantage of this, his thrusts becoming quick and merciless.

"Do you have something you want to ask me, yet?"

And for one brief moment, Hannibal has the strongest, most juvenile urge to lash out at Will. To kick him down, like a small child that isn't getting its way, and get what he needs himself.

It's a true testament to how connected they are in this moment, or perhaps Will can merely see the intent glowing in his eyes, because before Hannibal can even blink he leans down and sinks his teeth into the meat of Hannibal's inner thigh in rebuke. He doesn't even pretend to pass it off as a love bite.

Hannibal has to fight not to come right then and there. The effort of it alone makes him twitch and squirm in Will’s grip, a prey literally caught in the jaws of his predator. Will shows no sympathy, only releasing Hannibal’s flesh from his mouth with a wet sound and pressing his arm down firmly over his undulating hips.

"Behave," he warns, and his voice is deadly. "Or you won't be coming at all tonight." And as ifto contradict his own words he presses the toy firmly to Hannibal's prostate, holds it there.

Hannibal’s head tips back, his mouth opening on a shout that cuts itself off partway through. He feels as if he might just shake apart, crumble until nothing is left of him but rubble and ash. And yet he can’t just _yet_ , because Will hasn’t said so, he can’t do anything until Will says so. His strokes have sped up impossibly faster as if in tandem with Will’s actions, a blur of motion in his peripheral vision. It’s bringing him dangerously close, past the point of him being able to help it.

It’s the mental image of what his skin must look like now, angry red and bearing a perfect ident of Will’s teeth, that does it for Hannibal. The last wall comes tumbling down, the last barrier of his pride breaks to shambles.

" _Please_ , Will, please, may I come? Please."

The question comes out like a pitiful, animal thing, but Hannibal cannot find it in himself to care, because he wants to bask in the warmth of Will's answering smile for the rest of his life.

"Is that what you wanted, baby? Why didn’t you say so? Go ahead, you can come for me."

It's been so built up, so often dangled in front of Hannibal only to ripped away at the last second, that for a moment Hannibal fears he won't be able to obey after all. But then just as quickly something snaps, and Hannibal feels his release like an incoming wave, shooting white all along his front and knocking him over with its strength. There’s a roaring in his ears, so loud it overpowers the sound of Will cooing praise at him, and yet everything within him is still. Still and quiet and _perfect,_ because it’s Will who is giving this gift to him. He wishes he could linger in the feeling of it forever.

Hannibal drifts back to himself just as Will is pulling the toy out of him. His movements are abrupt, not as gentle as they could be, but that could have something to do with the fact that he’s undoing his own pants simultaneously.

"Hang on," he's gritting out. "Stay just like that, so good for me." The commanding tone in his voice is bleeding away just a bit in his eagerness. He has half enough mind left to turn the toy off as he tosses it aside, and then he’s parting the halves of his undone paints, pulling down his underwear just enough to expose his own neglected cock. It's blush red and practically dripping at the tip, and Hannibal feels a muted punch of arousal as he watches Will begin to stroke himself rapidly. Will watches him just as much in turn.

When he shows every indication of staying as he is, Hannibal makes a protesting sound. He reaches near limp arms out and grabs Will by the hips, spreads his legs even further, making his want clear enough. The look of awe on Will's face is far more gratifying than it should be.

"You're sure?" he asks. His hand on his cock has slowed, but only somewhat.

If Hannibal had more energy he'd drag Will inside himself, but he feels the look in his eyes does the job well enough. He pulls Will even closer, impatient now.

Will doesn’t try to object again after that. He can't seem to help that soft sound that escapes him as he presses himself flush to Hannibal, heedless of the mess and his own still dressed state, and sinks deep into his abused, wet hole.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” he murmurs, and begins to move.

Hannibal grimaces at the sensation, but he doesn’t dare reconsider the allowance. It's an ache, but it's the best kind of ache, Will filling him in a way that is so familiar the pain is like home. As far as the two of them are concerned, Hannibal often can’t tell the difference where one ends and the other begins at times.

Will for his part looks like he's being absolved by a higher being, which honestly suits Hannibal just fine. His thrusts are quick, uncaring for gentleness, but Hannibal can tell he’s still holding himself back.

"Take what you need, Will," he urges him. His voice is rough from his begging. “Don’t slow down now on my account.”

A shaky laugh gusts its way from Will's lungs, but he obeys, speeding up until the snap of his half clothed hips begins to chafe against Hannibal's bare flesh. It's a true pain now where Will is invading him, earnest and unrelenting, but still Hannibal does not, could not ask him to stop. He doesn't want to even _consider_ the prospect of Will not being inside of him in some way .

Still, Will can most likely sense the hurt, which is why the kisses he presses to the side of Hannibal's face and neck seem to be both adoration and apology in turn.

“So good, so good, letting me fuck you even though I know you’re tired, I’m gonna…”

It's hard to tell whether it's Hannibal who yanks Will down or Will who crushes himself to Hannibal first, but either way they've come as close as they can now. It makes it so that Will's last punishing thrusts are spent with his face plastered to Hannibal's neck, his grunts coming out hot and damp against his skin. And then he’s coming, so deep inside him, hips grinding lazily into Hannibal as if to make sure nothing comes out.

Still staking a claim, as if tonight wasn’t proof alone of who Hannibal belongs to.

They stay like for a moment, two breathing, sweating masses. Then, bit by bit, Will moves to ease himself off Hannibal. He doesn't ask for the permission this time, merely stays inside him until whenever he’ll decide otherwise.

Hannibal meets his eyes, and there he is, sweet and simpering. Gone is the impassive tormentor from before and in his place is Will's half grin, lazy and satisfied, his curls mussed and framing his face perfectly. The juxtaposition would be dizzying if Hannibal weren’t already so intimately acquainted with these two forms of Will’s. Hannibal adores them both equally, more so for the fact that they seem to interchange and coexist so seamlessly.

“Are you alright?” Will asks, and his voice doesn’t seem to be faring that much better.

Hannibal gives a single huff. What a ridiculous question.

“Never better.”

Will rolls his eyes, his smile only growing teeth. His weight will become too much eventually, Hannibal is sure, for now he welcomes the comforting warmth of being crushed.

"My darling," he sighs, lifting a hand to spear it through Will's hair. Will isn't at all shy about leaning into the touch. "How did you know I needed that?"

Will stretches as much as he’s able in his position, his back curving upwards in a graceful arch. He _has_ to be uncomfortable, clothes askew and drying with both sweat and semen alike, but he makes no note of it. Instead he folds an arm on Hannibal’s chest, the other traveling up so that he can toy with Hannibal’s bottom lip.

"It's taken me a while,” he says, deceptively shy, “but I'm starting to get pretty good at figuring out what you need.”

The words are innocent, almost, but Hannibal can see the glimmer in Will’s eyes, invisible to anyone but the two of them. And Will is right; he _knows_ Hannibal by now, down to his marrow. He can catch the exact moment when it all becomes too much, when all Hannibal needs is to bend to someone else and just _take_ _it_ , often before Hannibal himself can. And perhaps others have tried, in the past, but they both know no one’s been as successful as Will is now, as effective.

And he’s sure that no one else will even come close to from now on, not as long as they both have a say in it. He’d like to see Will’s response to anyone who would try.

Hannibal can only smile up at him, wide and foolish, holding onto Will even as he moves up to press a kiss to Hannibal’s forehead.

"That you have."

**Author's Note:**

> I consider myself a connoisseur of the delicate art of Will Calling Hannibal Baby In Bed, you really should ask me about it some time.


End file.
